


brumation

by mercuryhatter



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling, M/M, Other, Snow, Winter, cold blooded crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: brumation: state or condition of sluggishness, inactivity, or torpor exhibited by reptiles (such as snakes or lizards) during winter or extended periods of low temperature.





	brumation

**Author's Note:**

> Chinese translation by Cupid-hayreddin can be found here: http://yeci6.lofter.com/post/1e902962_12cd9d363

The snow had started the previous night and had been softly falling all morning, gathering in feathery drifts on the windowsills and garden walls. Aziraphale had been reading in the same armchair by the front window since before the sun came up, a frigid mug of cocoa forgotten on the table next to him. It was gathering dust on the rim, though really it was only being dramatic; Aziraphale had made it hardly six hours ago. Still, that was what he noticed when he finally lifted the mug, frowning the dust away, and this brief tremor in his concentration made him realize that he hadn’t seen Crowley in a while. 

 

They’d had dinner together the previous night, ordered takeout that they ate on the living room floor while they argued over which cooking competition show to watch (an argument Aziraphale really should have won by virtue of knowing how to use the remote, but Crowley ended up winning by deployment of some select temptation techniques). At some point Aziraphale had settled in with his book, and he vaguely remembered Crowley making a nuisance of himself over the back of his chair. After that he wasn’t sure where the demon had gotten off to, and with a sigh he rolled off the chair to go find him. 

 

The bedroom was empty, as was the kitchen. Crowley never used the study, and the sunroom, his normal haunt on cold days, was deserted as well. Aziraphale wrapped himself in one of the scarves that lived in a messy pile near the back door and padded into the garden. 

 

He might have thought that Crowley wasn’t there either if he hadn’t known the layout of the garden well enough to recognize a ridge of snow that shouldn’t have been there. The plants had scraps of flannel around their roots, and between a row of tomatoes and a row of roses Crowley lay curled up with his head on a stack of them. Aziraphale raised his eyebrow and nudged him with his shoe. The snow lifted and settled as Crowley shifted underneath, but he only curled tighter. 

 

Aziraphale heaved a sigh, theatrically this time, and leaned over to gather Crowley up, brushing the snow off his shoulders and out of his long hair. His skin was the same temperature as the snow, but quickly warmed next to Aziraphale’s, provoking a muffled, annoyed noise into Aziraphale’s neck as Crowley’s dormant heart stuttered back to work. 

 

“Hush,” said Aziraphale. “Why do we even have the greenhouse if you’re just going to forget yourself out here every time there’s a cold snap?” Crowley muttered something unintelligible about roots, recovering enough muscular control to wind all four of his limbs around Aziraphale. Aziraphale merely made a disapproving hum and carried him inside, depositing him on the floor of the sunroom in a patch of light. He meant to disentangle himself and return to his book, but quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. 

 

“There’s no way you can possibly have this many vertebrae in this shape without cheating,” Aziraphale grumbled, settling on the floor with Crowley twisted around him in an admittedly improbably serpentine manner. Crowley just wound himself tighter as his skin warmed under the sun, tucking his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. Slowly, Aziraphale felt Crowley’s pulse against his chest catch up to his own. Crowley yawned loudly. 

 

“I wouldn’t be so careless if you weren’t so good about coming to get me,” he said slyly, loosening his stranglehold on Aziraphale. Aziraphale pinched him irritably. Crowley lifted his hand and twisted it, the motion seeming to pluck Aziraphale’s book out of the air, summoned from where it sat on the armchair across the house. “This is as good a place to read as any, don’t you think?” 

 

Aziraphale muttered something very rude about serpents under his breath, but took the book. Crowley grinned and settled in for a nap, warmed from the sun on one side and Aziraphale on the other. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gay and cold and avoiding my responsibilities and what about it
> 
> edit after getting asked a few times: the word count was partially on purpose; the finished story was 667 words entirely on accident but then I just had to edit it to make it 666, lol. I'm glad everyone appreciates it as much as I do, I'm just here for the satanic memes


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